Love, Loss and Loyalty
by MillieKittan
Summary: Sequel to Secrets and Sacrifices. When Max finds everyone she loves slowly being ripped from her, she must fight to regain both her composure and her family before its too late. Contains mild language and violence; M for safety because I'm paranopid and the sequel to an M fic. FAX fluff, angst and family drama.
1. Smashing Surprises

_Well, here it is, the first chapter of the sequel to Secrets and Sacrifices, title currently "Love, Loss and Loyalty", but this is a work in progress for now._**  
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_The style of this story is going to be a little different to the others, with the time-frame jumping around a little. I'll Indicate if the chapter is set in the present (as this one is) or the past, some of which may be depicted as flash-back kind of things of being described by another person, or as a memory. The longer scenes will have their own chapter, and the smaller ones with feature within a present-day chapter in the way I have in the previous chapters of S&S._

_Enjoy. x_

**Prologue - Early April**

If someone had told her she would be wearing a skirt twice in six months back before Nick had come into her life, Max would have told them they were crazy. For her, skirts were reserved for when she needed to look grown-up or to dress up for a party or dinner, and as such instead of owning smart trousers she had a single skirt reserved for such occasions.

Occasion one had been when Angelica, her younger sister, had picked out her outfit when she visited Nick during his bed rest. This wasn't her smart skirt, but she had thoroughly embarrassed herself by bending over at the waist while wearing it; even remembering the incident still brought a blush to her cheeks, and she had sworn she'd never wear a skirt again.

But here she was, on occasion number two, this time in the smart skirt reserved for those important appointments, and this had to be the most important in all of her siblings' lives.

She smoothed the material self-consciously over her thighs, aware that the thing only just covered her knees when she sat down, and straightened the blouse she'd dug out weeks before. In truth she'd been wearing the skirt every other day for the past two months, but she was willing to overlook the days between and class it all as one event. Every occurrence was for the same goal, after all.

Turning her head very slightly, Max searched the scattered onlookers for a familiar face. Most of the attendees of their court case seemed to be random people with nothing better to do with their time; most of them changed every day the court was in session or after a couple of days of proceedings. Amongst them were faces she would send a reassuring smile, to her brother and sister, who would let Iggy know she had sent them a glance, whereupon he would smile and wave in the direction they told him she was in.

How she missed her family.

It always relieved Max to see her siblings within the crowd, but at the same time it would disappoint her when there was no sign of Nick amongst the few people. Her eyes would sweep across the ever-changing faces of the few onlookers, but since he had been taken from her months before there had not been a sign of him at any of the court proceedings. She wondered if he simply didn't want to come, and for that she could not blame him, but to see his face would bring a sense of hope to her current situation.

Her eyes settled on those of a man at the back of the hall. He sat on the aisle seat to the right of the main doors into the courtroom, arms folded neatly in his lap. Despite the turmoil he had brought into her household, he never seemed to even grace the girl with a glance, always with his eyes straight ahead and his back straight, watching the court proceedings as if they were a picture show.

Beside him was the women she knew to be his wife, who seemed to have to actively keep pulling her eyes from the teenager whose life they had turned upside-down, and beside her their son. The boy was apparently a designer baby, born from his father's contribution and a donor egg due to his mother's infertility. The genetics were carefully selected to produce the son they wanted and the result implanted into her womb when it was simply a bundle of cells.

She scanned her eyes over the faces once more, but her heart suffered the same fall as it had a dozen times before. Her shoulders slumped and a little more hope slipped from her. With a heavy sigh Max turned back to the front of the courtroom and allowed herself to slide a little way down her seat, the defeat so evident in her face even her lawyer seemed to slump a little in despair.

_I'm going to lose_, she thought miserably. _I'm going to lose everything._

It took all of her resolve to actually stand when the judge entered the room, and as the short, old woman with the hooked nose made her way to her desk Max wondered if being held in contempt for not standing could delay the court proceedings. But then the woman was hunched over her desk and all but the lawyers returned to their seats, and Max complied, a sense of defeat about her.

Her Honour studied the notes she had taken from previous sessions on this case while holding a pair of spectacles, seemingly so old they had lost everything but the lenses and rims, in front of her eyes. This seemed to do little for her ability to read and eventually the woman discarded them altogether and held the notes at arm's length to read them. The lawyers remained standing while she did this, their folders neatly closed on the desk and their patience seemingly unending.

After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up. "Do any of you have anything new to contribute to the discussion?" Her voice was quiet and scratchy, but easily heard over the silence in the room. When both lawyers shook their heads the old woman sat back in her chair and fixed the young woman before her with a steady gaze, her expression emotionless and cold.

Max felt her heart drop into her shoes. _I'm going to lose everything I care about._

"In light of the information given to me," the old woman began, taking her eyes from the teen to focus her gaze at the end of the hall. If it were possible, the air seemed to thicken with silent tension, and Max began to find it hard to breathe. "As well as the details we have gathered here in the last ten sessions, I have come to my decision."

"Maxine Martinez," The sound of her own name made her jump. Her heart skipped a beat and a flush of sickness shot through her stomach as she straightened in her seat, smoothing her skirt into place and addressing the old woman appropriately. Her face was still unreadable. "Please rise."

Her legs felt like jelly and her arms like lead. It was a few seconds before Max managed to pull herself to her feet, a sense of giddiness darting across her head and through her gut. The lawyer beside her had zipped his folder back up and folded his arms on top, his eyes towards the judge but seemingly glazed over. They both know how this was going to end, and it wasn't good for either of them.

"Based on this information, I must rule tha-"

The doors to the courtroom flew open, thrown hard enough to slam into the walls on either side with such force that the bang both stopped the judge in her tracks and sent a jump like a Mexican wave through the few onlookers. Almost everyone turned simultaneously to see who had interrupted such an important part of the case, and all were slightly surprised by who they saw.

Max found herself to be the first to turn around, the adrenaline in her system from her current situation heightening her reaction time, and she couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath that followed when her eyes fell on the young man in the doorway.

He'd come back. Nickolas had come back.

It had been almost two months since she had seen him last; almost two months since what was left of her life had been turned upside-down and her family had been ripped, one by one, from her arms. He had been the first to be taken away from her and, without even a phone number to contact him, she was concerned he didn't even know her case has made it into the courts. A hand reached for the necklace he'd given her and clenched it on instinct, and with her exhale her mouth curved into a slight smile. His eyes fell on hers, and for a moment she thought he had not forgiven her, but then his own lips curved into a matching smile and a weight lifted from Max's over-taxed heart.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" The woman's voice lacked some volume over the now whispering crowd. The boy had not been involved in the case before and now, as he strode down the centre aisle with a jacket slung over his shoulder, hair soaking and stuck to his face from the rain, everyone except Max and the home-wrecker at the back of the room were wondering who he was. "Young man, you'd better ha-"

"Your Honour," he interrupted her. Her resulting silence was icy and her face creased in anger, deepening the wrinkles about her mouth and eyebrows. Nick stood tall before the woman's table and ran a hand self-consciously through his soaking hair, glad he'd worn suit trousers and a shirt to come here today. "If I may, I would like to contribute to the case."

The opposing lawyer stood from his seat. "Objection. A verdict had already been reached before he entered the room. Not only that but we've had all of her siblings, her Father Doctor Batchelder and qualified psychiatrists on the stand. I fail to see what he can off-"

"Sir," the young lad's voice was sharp as he addressed the lawyer over his shoulder. "With all due respect, that implies you questioned two young, impressionable children, a blind minor, a man who barely knows the girl and a professional who has never spent a day with the girl she was supposedly analysing for you. This seems hardly fair."

The judge lent forwards on her desk, looking down at the lad before her, interest written in her features. He was just over six foot tall and as such was almost the height of her raised desk, his soaking hair level with the worktop where he'd unintentionally spiked the longer parts moments before. Despite addressing the lawyer he had not looked away from her, and even now he held her gaze as the man, seemingly lost for words, retook his seat at his desk and rested his arms on his folder.

"What is it you wish to offer us, young man?" She asked him in a gentle tone, the quiet room once again taking her voice and channelling it like a megaphone. Behind them, the attendees of the court had slowly begun to settle again, the few who'd stood at the intrusion settling back into their seats. A glance back satisfied Nick that Batchelder was looking increasingly uncomfortable in his expensive suit.

He turned back to the judge. "My name is Nickolas Arnold," he stated, waiting for her to write that down before continuing. "And I'm offering myself for cross-examination as a character witness for Miss. Martinez's defence of her right to continue to care for her siblings as an established emancipated minor. I have first-hand experience of Miss. Martinez's position in her family both before and after her fath- Mr. Martinez's death and wish this to be known to the court before any decisions are made on the future of her and her family."

"And you believe the information you can offer may sway my decision?" The teen nodded, and the old woman allowed herself to fall back into her chair, turning her gaze to the lawyer who had objected to Nick's inclusion in the trial. "We'll have a quick recess, and then you have a character witness to cross-examine."

A sliver of hope allowed itself back into Max's heart, and a new kind of sickness, one associated with happiness, flooded her stomach as the judge's gavel hit the desk and another round of chatter erupted, this time much louder, amongst the people within the court room. Batchelder strode down the middle aisle to talk to his lawyer as Nick glanced over his shoulder to offer the girl a reassuring nod.

_As long as we're together, we'll be ok_. The promise came back to her, and some confidence returned as she nodded back in defiance from behind her lawyer's table. If they could play this right, there was a fighting chance Max could walk out of this courtroom either today or a few days from now with her family back together.

She gripped the necklace tighter, and allowed herself to hope.


	2. Painful Realisations

_Thank you to everyone who has favourited/ alerted/ reviewed this story already. That really was a quick response, and I wasn't expecting it. Lol._**  
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_So here we are, on chapter two. This is the chapter that will set a few more things in motion, sending the story tumbling into its main plot. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Also, ong 4,000 word update. =o_

_~Millis_

**January 2nd**

Tapping the arm of the chair with a single finger, Max recreated the rhythm warbling from the receiver as she waited for someone to answer her call. It seemed everyone else had the same idea as she; to call them at opening time the first day they reopened after the Christmas period. She'd been on hold with the Young Carer's Association for over two hours, and her patience was beginning to wear thin.

It had been almost a fortnight since Mike had finally left their lives, but it felt like a lifetime now. Christmas had come and gone so quickly and filled the holes in everyone's hearts from the previous year with love and merriment. Even now every member of her household seemed brighter than she thought they would so close to the incident; Nudge and Nickolas had gone for a walk up to their old home to collect clothes and other things they might need, while her own siblings were playing with Christmas toys in the dining room, under orders to keep it down while she was on the phone.

Just days ago, they had trekked the distance between their house and the hospital to exchange Max's wheels for a pair of crutches. With the freedom to move about the house unhindered Max's spirits had returned to a normal level along with everyone else. Another few weeks and she would be allowed to walk, if slowly, without any aid. This is what she was looking forward to – being able to go back to normal.

Only she wasn't sure what normal was anymore.

With the two new additions to the household, there had been a juggling of bedrooms. Gary and Iggy now had their room to themselves, which they quickly spread into by covering the floor in clothes, toys and other miscellaneous rubbish. The blow-up mattress had been located and inflated for Nadia to use, and both she and Angel had been placed into the spare room recently vacated by Max's Father's passing. Finally, Nick had taken up residence in her own room and shared her bed, a few of his belonging stowed on top of her usually empty desk and blocking her mirror.

A constant level of noise, laughter and falling over one another seemed to have become normal. With both Nadia and Nick not quite as savvy at leaving the house blind-friendly, their new brother had gained a couple of bruises and a small wound on his arm since their move-in. He complained about these incidents loudly, but no one took him seriously, since he usually did so with a grin plastered across his pale face.

With so many people in such a small house, accidents were bound to happen, after all.

Finally, the terrible music came to an abrupt end, and the line began to ring. Max pulled herself more upright in what used to be her Father's chair, as if a better posture would help her talk more clearly to the representative she was being transferred to. On her lap she held the last letter she'd received from them, fingering it with a slight nervousness.

It had been the day she'd traded her wheelchair for crutches that Fang had given her this letter. She had been angry that he had kept it hidden from her, but at the same time understood before he even tried to explain that he'd just wanted her to enjoy Christmas. Guilt had stabbed at her stomach but, her stubborn streak taking over, an apology hadn't been able to leave her lips as she'd limped off on her sticks into another room in a show of huffiness. He hadn't acted any different around her in the last few days however, and she wondered if he was aware of the silent apology she tried to portray to him with glances and smiles.

Another click over the receiver. "Good morning, this is the Young Carer's Association helpline." The girl was young and cheerful sounding, and Max couldn't help imagining her with chewing gum in her mouth and twiddling the phone cord like you would on a casual call. "My name is Maria. Please can I take your name?"

"Maxine Martinez," she stated clearly, looking down at the letter before her, allowing the girl to bring up her file. A twang of concern she'd sworn to keep locked away managed to escape into her gut as she studied the words again. She hadn't told the kids she'd received a letter, or what this phone call was about. She didn't want to worry them unnecessarily, especially Gary, who was prone to illness under severe stress or uncertainty.

But she was very concerned what this phone call may set in motion. Her hands were warm and slightly sweaty, and she grasped the paper harder than she intended as she reread it, having to physically force herself to slacken her grip to reveal the thumb shaped crease now in the top corner of the letter.

The typing on the other end of the phone ceased. "And what can I help you with today?" The young lady enquired, seemingly unaware of the letter her company had sent out a week beforehand. There was a slight pause, and then she continued. "Is it regarding the change in circumstances in your home? I have a note attached to your file stating you have been sent a letter due to legal documents that came to our attention through the hospital."

_Ah. The hospital told them._ She had been wondering how the YCA had known of her Father's death before she'd contacted them, it seemed the hospital took it upon themselves to spread the word of deaths, as they had done with Mike's passing to family members. Fang planned to tell Nudge about her Grandmother's visit while they were out that morning, having put it off for as long as possible due to her already fragile mental state after her Dad's death on Christmas Eve.

She briefly wondered if sharing such information before consent was given was illegal, before remembering she was supposed to respond to the woman on the phone. "Yes," she stated quickly, holding the letter up so she could scan it as she spoke. "One of the blind people in my care, my Father, had an accident and passed away late November last year."

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry." The woman commented in a poorly practiced sympathy, her detachment obvious in her tone. The typing resumed on the other end of the line. "We'll have to send someone out to reassess your family status, just so we can decide how much you should receive. Have you had a change of address since you first contacted us, or would you like any phone numbers or other details updated while I have access to your account?"

Max took a deep breath, debating if she should mention the new member of her household, before finally stating "No, thank you." A feeling she couldn't place sent a sickness through her gut, but she ignored it and folded the letter back up with her free hand. "No details have changed."

"Ok, then that's all set." The typing ceased and a scuffling noise suggested Maria had transferred her receiver to her other hand. "Someone will be dropping by your house in a fortnight to clarify your new details. There's nothing else I can help you with?"

The teen thanked her before disconnecting the call, placing the receiver in her lap and taking a second to stare at the ceiling, her mind chugging away. As they stood, they were a house of minors. On legal records it stated Max had been kept behind a grade at school, making her eighteen in six months yet still a year and a half from getting out of school with grades that currently left a lot to be desired. Her grip tightened on the folded letter once again, but this time she didn't correct herself, too busy trying to blink away a few tears that attempted to escape down her cheeks.

There wasn't a scenario she could envisage that didn't end in her family being torn apart, and it scared her.

oOoOo

Slipping the key into the front door, Nick twisted it inside the lock and pushed the door open in a single fluid move. The air that rushed out to greet him and his sister seemed to be colder than outside, and he shivered, not knowing if it really was colder or he simply imagined it to be. Both teens remained on the threshold of the house, staring into the long, bare hallway without making a sound.

Neither of them wanted to go inside.

Finally, more of a compromise than an acceptance of the inevitability of going into the house, Nick took a few steps into the hall simply to gather the letters that were scattered across the carpet. Few had come in the days between Christmas and New Year, but there was still a handful once they had all been collected together and neatened into a single pile within his hands.

It seemed this was enough incentive for his sister to follow, and soon Nadia was at his side, her eyes still on the pain white walls of the house she'd lived in her entire life. They fell on a small section of the wall and she shuddered involuntarily at the memory of being thrown into it by the one man she thought she'd always be able to trust. Her heart beat rose, and she forced her breath to come out evenly, feeling her chest gasp for air.

She had to overcome this, or it would rule the rest of her life.

"Remember, just pack what you need." Her eyes turned back to her step-brother, and simply seeing his calm face helped her to settle down. He still held the letters in his hand, but they were by his side now, mostly bills and bank statements that would not concern them. He seemed solemn, and Nadia wondered if it was simply returning to the house, or if there was something else on his mind. "One case should be plenty."

Nodding, the girl headed for the stairs, careful not to look around her in case anything evoked memories of her life before her Father had changed. She knew she had an old suitcase tucked under her bed from weekends away and camping trips they used to go on together and, while trying not to think about where she had gone with her Dad and that case, she headed towards her room to retrieve it.

Nick slowly made his way from the hall into the living room, flipping through the letters in his hand for anything that might concern his Mother's whereabouts or any kind of clue of her location. He'd attempted to call her many times over the holidays but always got sent straight to voicemail, indicating her phone was either off or damaged. He'd given up on New Year's Day and decided his best bet was to search for a letter; sure she would not forget the address at which she'd left her son.

It was after three bills, a bank statement and a small wad of junk mail that he found the letter. The address was written with care and attention in his Mother's best handwriting, addressed directly to him. Discarding the others on the coffee table, he searched the envelope for a post mark and even checked the stamp for any clues, but there were no clues as to where the letter had come from.

He turned the crème envelope over and stuck his thumb under the seal, intending to rip it open, but something inside treasured the thing almost irrationally and he found himself carefully peeling the tuck paper apart with care. The glue was not particularly strong and they came away from one another easily, allowing him to take a hold of the letter folded within and drop the envelope, now forgotten, to the carpet.

Nick hesitated, his fingers on the edges of the paper, as a sense of dread slunk into his stomach and made him feel sick. While he wanted to read it more than anything, some part of him dared not open the letter. He could think of few reasons why his Mother would risk sending a letter instead of a phone call and this made him nervous.

Finally, he took a deep breath, and flipped it open.

* * *

_My Dearest Nickolas,_

_I only ever wanted the best for the both of us. When I remarried, I thought a new start with a new man, so far away from the mistakes of our pasts, would be a wonderful thing. Mike was such a nice man when he was courting me. He seemed like a dream come true. I now know if something seems too good to be true, you should walk away from it before someone gets hurt._

_Please understand how much I love you. I'm sorry if, in the past, I have come across as resentful or even having a hatred of your presence. You must understand that you look so much like your Father, my very first mistake, that sometimes it was hard to bear to see his face._

_You've made me proud, Nickolas. You are nothing like your Father. You have a gentle heart and care for those around you; you treated Nadia as if she were your own sister, and the love and affection I saw you bestow on both Brigid and Maxine was much more than he ever showed me. I'm so happy you finally found a girl who appreciates you. She's a keeper._

_I just want you to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted._

_Something has happened, and I can't come home. Please know I never wanted any of this to happen. I love you more than words can describe; you are my only child, my flesh and blood, and I'm so sorry I had to leave you with that man. It is my dearest hope you got out of the house, as I requested, and have found somewhere safe to stay._

_Look after your step-sister. It's only a matter of time before she gets the sharp end of Mike's temper. Look out for her as you have for me, in the way you have already that makes me so proud of you. _

_Love you always,_

_Your Mother._

* * *

A certain numbness descended upon the teen's mind as he reread the letter, the words burning his retinas the second and third times. It was only when a single tear pattered onto the paper, smudging one of his mother's precious last words, that he realised tears had begun to carve crevices down his cheeks. He wiped them away with a shaking forearm and sniffed hard, willing the tears back into his eyes.

His mother was dead.

She hadn't stated this in the letter, but he was certain this was the implication. He could think of no other reason why she wouldn't come back, or suggest that he jump ship and join her in her new haven. For an instant he imagined her in a hotel room, her money all gone and the guilt of a lifetime of bad choices gnawing at her soul, pen to paper and she used her best handwriting to contact the one thing she still cared about.

His next breath was shaky and uneven. He started down at the paper, the words suddenly meaningless, as flashes of ways his mother could have died flickered through his head. Nick closed his eyes tight and let the letter flutter to the floor, pressing his palms to his eyes and falling back a step, bumping into the arm of the sofa behind him. Another breath, this time laboured and shaking, as more tears seeped from his eyes and soaked his hands.

It was a good few minutes before the teen managed to regain some composure, sniffing and lowering his soaked hands to reveal bloodshot eyes. They fell on the letter where it had fallen, very slightly under the coffee table, for a further five minutes before he found the energy to move, to bend down and retrieve it. Still crouched he read the words again, this time drinking in every syllable of his mother's perfect penmanship, hoping beyond reason for a hidden message or location.

But his heart was already fractured by the truth; his Mother was gone. There was no hope of her coming back. His eyes raw from crying, he stood and carefully folded the letter before slipping it into his back pocket, his fingers lingering on the paper for a moment before letting his Mother's last words from his grip.

Without really thinking about it, Nick found himself taking the stairs two at a time. He was supposed to be packing some belongings as well but he strode straight past his room and into the one adjacent; the room his Mother and Mike had shared during their brief life here. He paused in the doorway to flick on the light, the curtains still drawn from Mike's early rise almost two weeks before.

A small part of him was hesitating, irrationally not wanting to set foot in the room. The bed had been left dishevelled and unmade, but other than that everything was neat and tidy. A glass of water remained on his mother's bedside table, as if she were simply in the bathroom and would return any second. A book was propped open on its pages on Mike's side, suggesting he intended to finish it.

It was as if they were both just downstairs. This evening, they would return to their room to drink that water, and read that book, and sleep in that bed. This is the message the room sent to Nick's senses, but he ignored it, instead focusing on the pit of sickness growing in his stomach.

No one was coming back for him.

He stepped into the room as if the floor may try to devour his leg. After that first step, more came much easier and before he knew it he found himself with one hand on his mother's wardrobe door, which was now open, staring at the clothes she used to wear. The surreal-ness of the situation continued to batter his brain as he ran a hand down a skirt that used to be her favourite, memorising the feel of the silky material on his fingers, imagining he could smell her faint perfume even now.

"Nick?" The voice was soft, so quiet he almost missed it entirely. His hand fell from the skirt uselessly to his side, his eyes unfocused on the material, his breathing slow and steady. It was a few seconds before he glanced over at his step-sister. She stood in the doorway with a suitcase in her right hand, a rucksack slung over one shoulder, and sorrow written across her face. "She'll come back for you."

_But she won't_, he thought sadly, turning his head to glance at her clothes once more, but angling his body to leave. He knew if it were possible she would have come back for him, but everything had changed for the both of them. Their lives had gone from bad to worse in record time and now here he was, almost seventeen, being forced to pick up the pieces and arrange them in a way that left him less broken without a hand to guide him.

He sighed. _And here I am about to break one of the only ties I have left_. He turned towards his step-sister, but instead of heading towards her he slumped onto the bed, his back feeling too heavy to maintain a good posture. Nick patted the space next to him, motioning for Nudge to take a seat, before folding his arms in his lap. He'd spent a lot of time over the holidays considering how to tell Nudge what was going to happen to her, but now the moment had come, any carefully considered words he'd had in his head evaporated.

Staring down at his fingers, Nick played with the hem of his shirt. "When Mike…when your Father passed away, and the hospital realised you had lost both of your parents, they contacted your next of kin." He paused, hoping Nadia would interject with something, anything, that would help the conversation move along, but she remained silent. He angled his head very slightly to look at her face, and was met with confusion, and he was forced to continue. "Did you ever meet your Grandmother?"

The girl shook her head, and he took a deep breath. "Her name is Adeline. I think she's from your Mother's side of the family, given she has a different surname." He paused again, turning his eyes back to his hands, dropping the hem of his shirt to rub his thighs uncomfortably. "When Mike's will is read in a few weeks' time, she's coming to visit. I think…" he sighed, closing his eyes. "I think she intends to take you home with her."

"No," was the teenager's initial response, and Nick looked up to a kind of fear plastered across the girl's face. Her hands had clenched around the material in her skirt in shock. "I mean, I've never met her before. Do I have to go with her? I want to stay here with you, with Max and her family. They're so nice and we're ok, aren't we? We're managing. We can just tell the-"

"Nadia," he interrupted her rambling, placing a hand on her leg in support. Her eyes fell on his hand rather than his face, finding it easier to focus there. "We want you to stay too, we really do, but it just can't happen right now." He could see tears attempting to well in her eyes. Nick raised his hand to her chin and gently tilted her head up to him, so he could see the concern in his face. "We don't even know if Max's family will stay together yet, not now her Father is gone."

The young girl suddenly looked as fragile as her age, at the thought of yet another family being torn apart. She shuffled closer to her big brother and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her face in his shirt not to cry, but simply to be closer to him. He wrapped his arm around her middle and gently stroked the back of her head with his other hand, resting his chin in her dark curls.

He squeezed her a little tighter. "Your Grandmother will look after you," he whispered, and he felt the teen nod into his shirt in response. She tightened her own grip on him and sniffed. He ran his hand slowly through her curls, hoping the motion would soothe her, allowing her this relapse into a child in need of support since he wished he could do the same.

"Everything will be fine," he lied to her, ignoring the doubt in his own mind. "You'll see."


	3. Silent Understanding

_Here's a little FAX for all of those who follow me simply for these injections of care and love and stuff._**  
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_Also, I've decided this series will contain a Lemon. It's a long way off as of yet, and it WILL NOT BE SIGNIFICANT TO THE PLOT LINE. It will simply be a chapter ONLY for the lemon, and it can be skipped if you do not wish to read it. it's only significance is that you're aware it took place, as it will be a part of character and relationship development._

_Enjoy~_

**January 2nd**

The air in the Martinez household was thick with emotion that evening. After returning home with the letter still in his pocket, Nick had yet to utter a word, simply responding to people with eye contact and shrugs of the shoulders or shakes of the head. He had yet to explain why, and while he wanted to talk about it, the pain burnt away his voice box and kept his jaw locked tight.

It seemed Nadia was not fairing much better with her own news. Having never met her Grandmother before, the idea of living with her set off a wave of emotions that flooded the youngster's system and dissolved her incessant speech to no more than the odd word. Along with her Step-brother, she picked at her food and offered only the slenderest of smiles that faded as soon as she could return to her own thoughts.

Her own mind on the possible loss of her siblings, Max also contributed to the atmosphere engulfing the house. She scolded the kids for things she would normally let slide, sent Gasman to his room for not apologising for releasing gas at the dinner table instead of laughing, and spent three times longer than usual cleaning up after dinner, as if her body were unable to function any faster under the stress. As a result the kids were moody and sullen also, and all went to bed early that night without even thinking about whipping up some dessert or playing a game.

That evening, laying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling in darkness, Max considered what was going to happen when the government found out both her parents were dead. With still a year and a half left of school and no income other than the benefits she was already claiming, she could think of no scenario that would receive a big green tick from the inspector when he came by in a few weeks. Her fingers found the hem of her camisole and played with it, twisting it in both anger and frustration at the events that had unfolded in the last year.

All this time, all that work, and she could lose everything.

A thin slither of light spilt into the room. She didn't have to glance over to realise it was Nick, who had been taking a shower. The light receded and the door clicked shut, leaving the room in darkness once again as the teen picked his away around the edge of the bed to his side. He'd yet to utter more than two words since his and Nadia's return, only stating 'fine' when asked if he were ok and expressing his need for a shower much later. Now he slipped between the sheets silently, his hair damp and smelling of fresh raspberries, his back to her.

This was also getting to her; the seemingly sudden decline in their relationship. Ever since he'd given her the YCA letter days before they seemed to speak less and less, even reaching the point where they no longer embraced before sleep or even slept facing each other. She turned her head to look at him in the darkness, his brown hair almost black in the dull light, his breathing already even as if he were asleep.

But of course he wasn't. His eyes remained wide open, fixed on the slim window before him that looked over the back yard. Behind his eyes and stoic features an emotional war was waging, one he wasn't sure he could win without snapping into tiny pieces. Since reading his Mother's letter he had become unsure of many things; of his resolve, of his emotions, of his reasons for living. The wall made none of it clearer and he shifted beneath the blankets, trying to get comfortable.

He couldn't figure out if he was distraught his mother was dead, or if he never got to say goodbye.

Behind him, Max decided to take a step in the only direction she considered appropriate. She rolled onto her side and wriggled up against the length of his back, pressing her face into the back of his neck. Her knees bent underneath his to maximise the amount of her body touched his warm skin. Lastly, she draped an arm over his waist and bent it at the elbow, splaying her hand across his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath her digits.

Though she would never know, this simple gesture was something that helped Nick, much more than any psychiatrists or therapists he would meet in the future. A gentle expression of both her love and her compassion for him in his time of need, an offering of silent support without him asking for it, helped mend a crack in his very being that could otherwise have resulted in another wasted life.

It took him a few seconds to respond, but eventually Nick placed his own hand over hers, slipping his own digits between those of her own hand, sharing the warmth that always seemed to flow from his body. Max slowly nuzzled the back of his neck with her nose, so softly, as if it were simply to remind him of her presence. He squeezed her fingers between his own, and she did the same.

"As long as we're together," Max whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "We'll be ok."


	4. Maple

_Oh look at that, another update. I must be on a roll...or maybe it was the coffee cupcake I ate earlier today. __Either way, here's another chapter for you, a little tie-up from the story before._

_Enjoy~_

**January 9****th****  
**

It was Sunday, the day before school was scheduled to restart and possibly one of the coldest days of that winter. Most of the morning the kids had been searching the house for loose change; silvers in the pockets of forgotten bags, the odd dollar bill in a jacket pocket, a few cents down the back of the sofa; trying to scrape enough together for them all to get returns on the bus.

Today was the day Iggy was due to collect his dog and, while they were hoping for enough change to get a taxi, a hint of realism in Max's brain convinced her well before every place had been checked this wasn't going to happen. _Besides_, she told herself as she attempted to control her crutches whilst bundled under four layers of clothes and winter accessories, _he's a working dog. He should have no problems with public transport._

A trip on a bus with crutches wasn't fun, especially when it was packed to the brim with bargain-hunters heading for the sales and old women who, while they appeared to be sprightly and healthy, refused to relinquish their seat to someone currently classed as 'disabled'. Eventually a single seat opened up at the front of the bus and her siblings forced Max to take it before someone else did, Angel hanging onto Fang's coat while he dangled precariously from a ceiling loop. Nudge lent herself against the luggage area and held onto the bars, watching the traffic ahead from the windscreen.

Even Iggy seemed to have trouble getting a seat; the bus driver forced someone to make room for him, stating it was dangerous for a blind citizen to stand while the bus was moving. The grumpy passenger had stood but otherwise didn't comment, and Iggy took up the seat with Gasman climbing onto his lap for safety.

The long bus ride stretched out before them, seeming to take even longer than it had the first time, an endless number of stops between them and the one they wanted. Slowly, as it drifted through town, the number of people on the bus diminished and soon everyone had a seat. Dark clouds threatened rain that seemed intent on not falling and the sun cowered behind them in fear.

It mirrored both the eldest teens' unspoken thoughts on that trip.

Finally, the bus pulled up down the street from the little hall that had been converted into a Guide Dog Training Centre. Originally, when the kids were small, it had been a day-care centre even Iggy and his sister had frequented. The walls within there still brightly coloured and painted with smiling suns and stick-men, one of which Max had contributed on her leaving year, disguised from the outside under dull brick and ivy.

The cool air slapped Max in the face as she stepped off the bus, and she couldn't help but shiver. Her breath condensed in front of her as she readjusted her grip on the crutches. Beside her the other kids seemed to have the same affliction; Iggy dragged his hat further down over his ears and Angel rubbed her arms in a feeble attempt to warm herself up. Nick shoved his un-gloved hands into his pockets. Nudge decided to voice in many words how cold it was outside.

Gasman seemed to be ok, though he had so many layers on he looked like a blow-up doll.

"Ok," Max stated as she started walking towards the centre, and everyone fell into step with her. The cold crept into her muscles and started them aching much sooner than usual. She tilted her head to look directly at the youngest members of their group, who had taken to holding an arm of Iggy's each. "So what are we not to do when the dog is working?"

Angel shot up her free hand. "We're not to distract him in any way; no petting, no fussing, no talking to him." Her face had been the essence of concentration while she was recounting the words from memory, but now she smiled at her big sister.

On the other side of their brother, Gasman piped up, his blonde hair bobbing around his face as he walked. "And if other people try to do any if it we're to ask them nicely to remember the dog is working, and should not be disturbed." He turned his attention to Max and tightened his hand on the lad's elbow. "Because it's dangerous if the dog is distracted and can't remember what he's supposed to do."

Max nodded and smiled at them both, glad they had been listening to her rant the night before. The woman they spoken to a few days previously had confirmed that while the dog was in the house he was more or less a pet, but outside he needed to remember to be in work-mode, and that meant no contact other than that of Iggy and the commands he had been asked to learn from a list.

A certain dread fixed in her stomach about the return journey on the bus, and she hoped people would heed the dog's yellow harness and give him the space and peace he needed.

oOoOo

Her worries were completely misplaced. Apparently, people in general seemed to be very sympathetic to a boy with a guide dog, and gave them all the room they could need, and more, when walking down the pavement. This seemed to carry onto the bus also; the entire party were vacated seats when people realised the kids were all with the blonde boy with the dog, and only one man tried to pat the Goldie on their travels; a quick word from Angel's sweet face and a brief apology, and he never tried again.

Absently, Max wondered why they'd never gotten Iggy a dog before. Of course she knew the answer – they just hadn't had the money before. Even though it was a charity for the training of the dogs, Max had to fork out almost eight thousand dollars in the end, as an 'expected donation' for the sponsorship of more dogs in the future. Admittedly the dog came with a bed, a months' supply of food, two steel bowls and a pre-paid vet card for its service life, but it was still a lot of money, and she was concerned about the state of her bank account. The twenty grand she'd received from the YCA was slowly wittering away.

_Not that it'll matter much soon_, she thought glumly, then tossed the thought aside with a shake of her head.

The dog had turned out to be a girl; a honey-coloured lab who's coat had collared her the name 'Maple', since she resembled the golden colour of her syrup namesake. Inside the training centre she had been licking hands and faces and wagging her tail fiercely, but as soon as the harness had been pulled into place she seemed to slip into a different persona, of a very contained and focused working dog intent only on serving her master.

Once they returned home and the harness was removed, the scatty dog they'd met within the confines of the training centre was released again, and she began to roam the house with her nose cemented to the floor, taking in the scents and sights of her new surroundings with that whip of a tail once again wagging ferociously every second. The kids placed her bowls in the corner of the kitchen and, while filling one with water, bickered about whose room she would sleep in.

"She belongs to Iggy," their eldest sister reminded them, and Angel's face fell. "She'll sleep in there."

The excitement of their new addition finally settled around dinner time and, while Maple settled herself amongst the feet of her new household, everyone else enjoyed the new taste sensation Nick had come up with that evening. Not a scrap was left for the dog to have, though they had been given strict instructions not to give Maple human food and that treats must be severely limited, so while Max did the washing up she tucked into a bowl of plain dog food.

oOoOo

Placing the dog basket at the end of his bed, Iggy lent over the wooden foot-board to encourage the dog into it. They had padded it with an old duvet found stashed under Angel's bed and scattered a few choice toys within, so it could be her haven when she needed peace and quiet within the house. At first Maple seemed a little weary of her new safe-place, but once she tested it with her paws and sniffed it from corner to corner, she flopped within its softness and curled into a ball.

Standing in the doorway, watching Iggy scratch behind the honey dog's ears, Max couldn't help the gentle smile that caught at her lips. While many parts of her life seemed to be falling apart, others seemed to be stitching themselves ever-closer together, winding new threads of attachment and compassion between age-old recipients, such as a boy and his dog.

She felt hands slip around her waist, warm on her stomach through the thin fabric of her camisole. Leaning her head as if on instinct, it soon came into contact with Fang's cheek, and they stood there silently for a while, batching as both boy and dog slipped into a sleep surely filled with pleasant dreams of the future or past.

"Are you worried?" His voice was almost a whisper, ticking her ear and pulling her back to the present. She had no idea how long they'd been standing there, or if he'd said anything else. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she traced her fingers over his, enjoying the sensation of rougher skin under her soft digits, letting his warmth seep into their frozen tips.

Another sigh. "Of course I'm worried." Her eyes strayed back to the sleeping children, and then down to the dog, whose own breathing was now even and gentle. Her paw twitched from a vision concocted from her own mind. "A week from now and my entire like could be different."

The YCA had called that afternoon to confirm the date for their visit as Sunday 16th January, the same day Mike's will was to be read; the day Nadia would leave to live with the Grandmother she had never met. While the coincidence of two such massive events occurring on the same day had fluttered though Max's head during the call, she'd come to the conclusion soon afterwards that the date of the events couldn't matter any less if it tried.

Her family was going to be ripped apart one last time.

Nick tightened his grip around her waist. He wanted to say something reassuring, but could think of nothing that wouldn't be a blatant lie. There was a high probability the YCA would concede to taking her kids into care, probably him and Max as well, whereupon who knew what would happen to them, their house or any of the belongings they couldn't fit into a suitcase.

"Maybe Nancy will come back." She added, taking his silence to be thought on his own future. Without meaning to, Max felt the teen's muscles tense on the words, a peculiar reaction to a woman he was fond of coming back into his life. She continued running her fingers over his large hands, mentally debating the merits of calling him out against keeping quiet, until her mind settled on the obvious question. "Are you ok?"

Always one for putting up a façade, it almost agitated Fang that this girl could see through it from simple gestures or movements. Sometimes he didn't even know _what_ she'd sensed that made her ask the question, but it seemed impossible to hide anything from her once she hit the nail on the head. He had taken the letter from his pocket almost a week ago now, and folded it smaller and smaller before slipping it into a zipper pocket of his suitcase, as if that would help him forget it were there.

Of course, it hadn't. His heart burned every time he looked at that pocket. Even now just the thought of it opened up a chasm in his stomach, so empty that it would suck him inside and devour his physical being if he allowed it. He let his muscles relax and rested his chin on Max's shoulder, his fingers lightly playing with the material of her camisole.

Maybe it was time he shared his burden with someone.


	5. Author's Note: My Absence

Hello.

I'd like to apologise for disappearing for eight months without letting anyone know what was going to happen to this story. As I have reassured people before, this story will be finished; I refuse to abandon it since it is my best novel to date.

I have, however, been otherwise occupied. Last September (the month I vanished from ) marked the start of the final year at college. Anyone reading this who has attended college or even have High School finals coming up will know how much time such things seem to swallow.

My exams end in May. While I will then have a full time job, I _will_ continue to update this story to the best of my ability until it is finished – there's still a long way to go, and having reread the first four chapters today I simply can't leave it unfinished.

Keep an ear out for an update. I promise there will be many more in the future.

X Millis


	6. Discussing Options

_A short update while I have a little spare time. My exams start in two weeks and finish at the end of May, so I'm not sure if there will be another update before June. I hope I still have the knack for this; writing in a scientific style for the whole year may have thrown my writing style out of whack._

_Also, this is a bit angsty. Sort of. Enjoy. x_

* * *

**January 12****th**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Nick asked for the third time that morning, glancing down at Max. She was seated in the only chair outside the headmistress' off ice, her crutches lent against the wall, while they waited for her to return from the staff room.

It was day three of the spring term and, while the remains of the snow may have melted, a crisp cold still hung on the air. Max had her winter jacket and an extra cardigan folded in her lap under her hands, her head back against the corridor wall behind her, eyes closed against the bright lights of the hallway. She was exhausted, having spent the last week getting very little sleep, her mind preoccupied with the ever-advancing meeting with the YCA representative. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of her children being ripped, one by one, from her house haunted her.

Opening her eyes, she glimpsed a pair of students she had never met whispering at the far end of the corridor, their hands covering their mouths but their eyes obviously fixed on the pair waiting outside Mrs. Honey's office. This was normal behaviour; anyone sat outside the head's office would be subjected to general gossip simply because it was the wheel that kept the school kids running, and any news was worthy of being spun into a tale to be passed from ear to ear during break time.

However, this kind of behaviour had followed Max around the school since term had restarted. After all, she had left perfectly healthy and returned hobbling around on a pair of crutches. No one had actually bothered to ask her what had happened; gossiping was much more fun, after all. By telling her friends Janine and Maddy a cut-off version, omitting the involvement of Mike and replacing with a random name, she'd hoped that the real story would seep into the gossip network. So far this had been a failure.

She turned her head very slightly to look at Nick. He was leaning against the wall beside her, hands behind his back and one leg braced against the wall. His jaw was held tight and serious, and Max could understand why; he had never told anyone about his Step-Father before, what had happened inside his house, or about his Mum's disappearance. He had agreed to allow this information to be relayed to the headmistress only because his involvement in their household could help Max prevent her siblings from going into care, but the pained look on his face suggested he was having second thoughts.

Max sighed. "I think his is the only way," she said again, playing with the hem of her cardigan while she spoke. "I know from the support she gave me last year she only wants to help, and the best way to gain her trust is to simply tell her the truth."

Beside her, Nick turned his head towards the ceiling, trying to relax a little more. They planned to tell the headmistress everything about his family from the beginning; not as far back as his childhood, but when his life with Mike and Nadia started. It was Max's hope that telling her the backstory behind their relationship and leading into how they now lived together would sway the teacher into letting her pursue her current goal, aided by Nick's presence in their household while this occurred. They were hoping she could write a letter they could present to the YCA that allowed the siblings to remain in the same house rather than going into care.

Max was going to be eighteen in less than six months. If she hadn't taken a year out of school when her mother died, she would be due to finish school this year, and the circumstances may have been different. As such, she was hoping to sway the headmistress into letting her take final year classes for the rest of the year, followed by the exams. If she passed, she could leave school and act as the children's guardian, a fully-fledged adult.

They fell silent again, the only sound the twittering of gossiping teens. It was another ten minutes and almost the end of lunch break before Mrs. Honey returned to her office to find the two teens stationed outside her door. With a blink of surprise and a sip of her steaming coffee, she unlocked her office door and invited them inside, warning them that they would be expected to return to lessons when the bell rang, regardless of the issue they wished to discuss.

oOoOo

Almost an hour later, both teens were still seated inside the headmistress' office, now holding mugs of hot coffee of their own. Max had been allocated the cushioned seat that always faced Mrs. Honey's desk, while Nick had borrowed a plastic one from a neighbouring classroom and sat forward with his back hunched, elbows resting on knees. It seemed Mrs. Honey had forgotten her promise to turf them out the second the bell went and had instead sat with her fingers entwined under her chin, listening intently for the last forty minutes while they both told their sides of the story.

Now they were finished, and both teens relaxed a little in their chairs, their faces flushed from the coffee and the stuffiness of the room. The room fell into silence while the head teacher studied them from behind her desk, eyes moving from one teen to the other while she let the information sink in. Finally, she sighed and sat back in her own soft chair, letting her hands fall to the desk top.

"You're putting me in a terrible position," she said in level tones, her eyes connecting first with Nick, and then with Max. She had been dealing with the latter since the previous year and was well aware of her capability as a carer. The former she had few dealings with; he was a good student with high grades, and it surprised her that his family life since he'd moved to her school had been so unstable. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache building from the mass of information she was trying to mentally sort through. "A very difficult position," she re-alliterated, dropping her free hand to a desk drawer.

Max sat up a little straighter. "Please," she whispered, her voice much quieter than she meant it to be. "I lost my Father just a month ago, if I lose the kids as well…" Her voice trailed off. She could feel tears bubbling at the corners of her eyes and willed them away, looking down into her coffee rather than at the headmistress. Nick turned his head slightly towards her before placing a hand on her back, hoping the contact would help in some way, though how he was not sure.

A desk drawer opened and closed, causing them to look back at Mrs. Honey, who now had paper headed with the school logo on her desk. She took a pen from the holder on her right and poised it over the paper, only then looking back at the teens before her. While Nick still seemed to ooze an aura of calm Max seemed to be sitting right on the edge of her seat, her hands tightly wrapped around her mug, and Mrs. Honey felt a pang of sympathy for the both of them, whose lived had been turned brutally upside-down so recently.

She out the pen down and folded her arms, leaning on her desk. "I can write a letter," she said softly, cringing slightly when Max's expression immediately lightened. "But I can't make any promises that it will sway the Young Carer's Association to let you keep your siblings." She watched the reality of that statement sink in before she continued. "As for your request, I will see to it that you are placed in final year classes from now on, Max. But if you can't keep up pass grades in coursework, I will be forced to return you to your current classes. There's no way you will be able to do well in the exams without adequate coursework behind you. Understand?"

Max nodded once, possibly with a little too much enthusiasm, before Mrs. Honey turned her attention to Nick. He was looking at Max, and still hand a hand on his friend's back, however his face had a very slight grin now turning up his lips. Mrs. Honey's heart sank a little. "Nick," she addressed him, drawing his attention to her own face. "As you have explained, Nadia is going to be living with her Grandmother from now on, come this Sunday. Are you planning to go with her?"

The boy frowned, the smile falling from his face, and Max noticed his jaw tighten from the corner of her eye. "No," he replied in a level tone. "I plan to live with Max and help with the kids while she does her exams."

Across the desk, the headmistress looked solemn. "Then I'm sorry, but it is my duty as an educator to inform social services when the parents or guardians of a student have passed away. I assume they'll attempt to track down another member of your family before they take you into ca-"

"You can't!" Max interrupted loudly, spilling a small amount of lukewarm coffee onto the carpet. Mrs. Honey looked pained as she switched her eyes back to Max, who seemed to be on the edge of tears once again, her hands holding the cup so tightly they were shaking. "Please, you can't. He's as important to me as the kids, he's important _to the kids_, you can't just take him away from us. The representative from the Young Carer's Association is due in four days. Please, can you just keep quiet until then? Let them decide what to do?"

Silence ensued, punctuated only by Max's now heavy breathing. Mrs. Honey rested her head in her hands and gently rubbed her eyes, mulling over everything she had just been told one last time. She could not deny that while on paper Max appeared to be an average student with an inclination towards truancy, in person she was much different, and obviously a much stronger person at heart. The pair of students before them had together been looking after Max's siblings for a few months now at least, and the two of them had been through a terrible ordeal recently.

_Do I want to do this?_ She asked herself, her eye staring at the blank paper between her fingers. _Do I even have a choice?_ She found this was a better question to ask herself, for the answer was an obvious one. As an educator she had certain responsibilities, one of which was to notify the correct authorities when faced with anything a student might pose, such as a severe crime or the death of their parents. But even with the phone just a few inches from her hand, she found that she could barely bring herself to pick up the receiver, let alone dial social services.

_What am I going to do?_


End file.
